She’s the perfect height,
with soft, slow curves
that work in the room
like Sophia on a Saturday night.
Her gold-plated base anchors her,
like Marilyn’s heeled bedroom slippers,
the only understated part
of her otherwise bold vesture.
She wears her fiberglass shade
like Audrey wore a pillbox —
proudly, convincingly
and without apology.
But it’s Liz’s brazenness
she displays most,
taunting the illustrious Eames brothers
as she sits, unashamed,
on Herman Miller.

April is National Poetry Month so I’ve pledged to write 30 poems this month. Theoretically, that’s one per day but as long as I finish the month with thirty, I’ll consider that a win. Read more about National Poetry Month at the WordPress Blog.